


Unprofessional Regrets

by bewize



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewize/pseuds/bewize
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M has regrets, unprofessional though they may be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unprofessional Regrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endquestionmark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endquestionmark/gifts).



“Bond is my agent and I trust him.” The words echoed in M’s memory as she flew to Russia and she wondered if she’d lost her mind. But the truth was simple – she did trust Bond. Opening her bag, she pulled out a tablet and flipped it open absently. There were urgent messages, all secure, locked behind the triple layers of security. More than a few of them were about the very agent she was tracking.

“Ma’am,” a voice interrupted her thoughts and she glanced up. A young agent was holding a cell phone to his chest. “Initial intelligence has come up with a name.”

“Well?” she asked, impatiently. “Who is it?”

“Yusef Kabira.”

Lips pursed, M nodded. Kabira. No wonder Bond had traipsed to Russia without so much as a word after La Paz. “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”

“No.” M focused on the young agent’s face for just a moment, watching as he accepted her dictate without even a flicker of emotion. He was good, about as good as they came, which was why she had chosen him to travel with her. She hid a tiny smile as he turned to go back to his seat near the back of the private plane. She would bet her year-end bonus that he had already pulled the file on Kabira, which meant he probably knew who she was really chasing.

A post card sat in her bag, a picture of the majestic Cordillera Real on one side, postage and a single word written on the other side. Kazan.

Bond. With a small sigh, M went back to activating her internet connection, in flight rules be damned. A moment later, M scanned through her emails. Sure enough, three were about Dominic Greene, another two were about the Quantum mess and there were at least four that were obliquely about Bond himself, though none used his name.

Pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment, M fought the urge to sigh. Somewhere along the line, she had lost her grip on Bond. As much as she wished she could deny it, she’d gotten soft around him. Pity, she supposed absently. Pity about Vesper Lynd. 

But it was more than that. She looked at Bond and saw herself, through the mirror of three decades. There were definite differences – Bond was a man after all, but she could not deny that her actions weren’t at least partially motivated by the desire to give her younger self forgiveness and sympathy that her own supervisors hadn’t given her.

And there had been a young man, once, that had betrayed her. The resulting scandal had nearly cost her life, but it hadn’t cost her soul, not the way Vesper’s death had cost Bond his. Life was fleeting; M did not romanticize that. Some people were better dead than alive, but ever since Vesper, M could not tell if Bond were truly alive, or living in some vegetative state on instinct and hatred. There was no denying he’d gotten more violent, and he’d never shied away from blood on his hands before.

Kabira would be a nice capture, exactly the sort of feather in Bond’s cap that she could use to reinstate him in his job. If – and it was a big if – Bond didn’t kill the man. In her gut, M wouldn’t blame Bond. Not many were given the chance to avenge a loss and Kabira had certainly earned his death. There was simply no telling how many women he’d seduced state secrets from or how many were dead at his hands. Giving in to the urge to sigh, M powered down her tablet and leaned back, eyes closed. They would land in a few hours and whatever happened, she would deal with it then.

********************************

Snow battered the truck and M glared through the windshield like the weather was a personal insult. Haiti and Bolivia had been better places to chase her errant agent than this. If Bond didn’t go to ground again, she was going to take him to task. She did not appreciate the unnecessary strain.

“We are almost there, ma’am. Do you have instructions?”

“Yes,” M answered the younger agent, tersely. “Park.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered evenly, obeying as they pulled into the parking lot indicated on the glowing GPS that hung from the front windshield. He got out of the car, crossing around to open her door, but M did not have the patience to wait. The cold took her breath away for a moment, but it wasn’t the reason for the knot in her stomach.

She had put her trust in Bond; her reputation was riding on his actions. If she could not find a reason to convince her superiors that her actions were in the best interest of Queen and Country, Bond was not the only one whose job was in danger. Briefly, she ordered the agents arriving in other trucks to form a perimeter. When everyone was in place, she took a breath to give the order to go in after Kabira, taking him alive. 

Instead, the door opened and Bond stepped out. He glanced around dismissively, until he saw her. Unconsciously, she thought, Bond straightened his shoulders and strode towards her. “Ma’am.”

“Is he alive?” For a heartbeat, M waited, her expression impassive, her stomach trying to fight its way out of her body.

“Yes.”

M nodded, to cover her relief, eying Bond as she gave a different set of instructions. Then she turned back to Bond. “I’m surprised. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Bond met her gaze, his eyes as bleak and desolate ad they had been when M had first shared Vesper’s betrayal with him. “I did.”

The urge to ask him what he’d found was nearly overwhelming, but M fought it and simply nodded. “Good. I assume you have no regrets.”

“I don’t.” Bond turned away for a moment and M turned to go and take over the situations. If Bond had managed to keep Kabira alive, it wouldn’t do for the man to die under her watch. “What about you?”

M closed her eyes for a moment, a thousand different scenarios flowing through her mind. She could have chosen a different life; one where her own life had never been in danger; one where she’d never had to take another life; one where she never would have destroyed a man’s life with her words, her actions, her deeds. Then she opened her eyes again and looked at Bond sharply.

“Of course not. That would be unprofessional.”

She thought she saw his lips quirk and he nodded in acknowledgement of her lie. Then the moment passed. “They found Greene dead in the middle of the Bolivian desert, of all places.”

Bond’s expression didn’t change and she narrowed her eyes slightly. “Two bullets in the back of his skull. They found motor oil in his stomach. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Wish I could help.” This time the lie was his, but M didn’t push him. 

“You'll be glad to know, I straightened things out with the Americans. Your friend Leiter's been promoted. He replaced Beam.”

“Well, then the right people kept their jobs.”

“Something like that.”

“Congratulations. You were right.”

“About what?”

“About Vesper.” For a moment, the façade cracked and M could hear a tiny note of grief. Then Bond shifted to walk away. “Ma'am.”

“Bond.” M called after him and he paused. “I need you back.”

“I never left,” Bond answered and this time M didn’t call him back. She had a job to do. And so did he.


End file.
